Off-Balance
by Deana
Summary: For the 'Aramis Faints' prompt. When on a mission to obtain some rare wine for the king, Aramis keeps fainting and it takes them a while to figure out why.
1. Out Cold

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 **Off-Balance  
** A Musketeer story by Deana

I planned this story for my 'Aramis Faints' collection, but it got wayyyyy too long to go in there, so here it is separate. I'm sure you don't mind. LOL

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"At least we have perfect weather for a long ride!"

"A _very_ long ride."

"Are you complaining, Athos?"

"Of course not."

"I thought so."

The three musketeers finished saddling their horses and rode out the garrison gate, making their way through the city of Paris on their way towards the countryside.

Aramis couldn't resist stopping to buy some apples from a vendor in the marketplace, and Porthos made a face.

"Hurry up, Aramis, we haven't got all day, ya know."

Aramis looked up after he dismounted. "Hurry up? We have _days_ of travelling ahead of us, will a few minutes make that much of a difference?"

Porthos laughed and looked at Athos. "What do _you_ think?"

Athos gave him an expression that clearly said, 'who cares'?

Porthos sighed dramatically. "Fine, you have two minutes."

Aramis chuckled and headed over to the beautiful red apples and put six in a sack before handing the vendor some coins. He smiled pleasantly before mounting his horse, taking an apple, and tossing it at Porthos. "Was that fast enough?"

Porthos caught it with a grin and took a bite. "Yeah, I guess so," he said.

They were quiet as they rode out of town, and once they'd made it to a long, grassy field, Aramis took out one of his apples and bit into it. "Would you like one, Athos?"

Athos shook his head.

"It's been a while since we've been to Burgundy," said Porthos.

"Indeed," Aramis replied as he chewed. "I think that's why Athos is being so quiet; he's trying to control his excitement over the rare wine that we're picking up for the king."

Athos turned to look at him with an 'excuse me?' expression. "I'm _always_ quiet," he replied.

"That you are, my friend," said Aramis. "The exact opposite of me. It's a good thing that Porthos isn't that way too or I would lose my mind!"

"But Aramis, you know what they say," Porthos told him. "Ya can't lose what ya never had."

Athos made an amused sound at that.

Aramis gave a gasp of mock-shock and put a hand on his chest. "Well, I _never_!" he exclaimed.

"That's what I just said," Porthos replied.

Aramis laughed.

The day was sunny and warm with a light breeze, and Aramis watched as a rabbit hopped through the grass in front of them.

"Hey," Porthos suddenly said. "You won't be able to visit the orphanage tomorrow."

Aramis nodded. Every Sunday after mass, he would spend a few hours visiting the children. It was always a joy to see the delight on their faces when he walked into the room. "I sent a message letting them know. They asked last week if you would come again and throw them into the Seine like you did the last time."

Porthos smiled and they both looked at Athos, who gave no reaction to his unexpected words.

" _Definitely_ thinking about the wine," Porthos said.

Athos turned to look at them. "I heard every word that you said; I simply know you too well to believe everything I hear."

"Too well? What am I thinkin' right now?" Porthos asked.

In answer, Athos kicked his horse into a gallop and left them in the dust.

Porthos' face displayed shock. "He's right!" With that, he took off after him.

Aramis quickly followed, and all three of them went as fast as their horses could go, neck to neck, until another rabbit suddenly dashed in front of them.

Aramis' horse was startled and reared. He hung on as best he could, but Bella danced backwards and Aramis slipped off. He landed on his feet, but the horse backed up and Aramis scrambled back, tripping himself and landing on his rear end.

Athos jumped off his own horse and grabbed Bella's reins, pulling her away before she could trample her master.

Porthos ran over to Aramis, intending to pull him away, but didn't need to, as Bella quickly settled.

" _That_ was unexpected," said Aramis, still sitting where he'd landed.

"Are you all right?" Porthos asked, kneeling beside him.

Aramis nodded. "Perfectly. My posterior took the full brunt!"

"Better that than your _head_ ," said Athos, still holding Bella's reins.

Porthos stood and reached down to help Aramis stand. "That was pretty impressive, how you landed on your feet."

"Yes...if only I hadn't tripped myself after!" said Aramis, grabbing his hand and letting Porthos haul him up.

Porthos chuckled and watched as Aramis walked over to Bella and stroked her nose.

"Didn't like the sight of that rabbit, did you?" Aramis asked.

Bella tossed her head as if saying 'no', making Porthos chuckle again.

Aramis smiled as he mounted, and they were off again.

The three musketeers rode more slowly—keeping aware for more rabbits—and Aramis was surprised when a wave of lightheadedness suddenly swept over him a few hours later. He listed a little to the left in his saddle, before righting himself and blinking it away. With a frown, he tried to figure out what had just happened, wondering if he'd unknowingly dozed off.

The day passed slowly as they rode, and Aramis felt dizzy one more time, after turning his head quickly to laugh at something that Porthos had said. He assumed that it was being caused by having jarred his head when he'd fallen, and decided to ignore it.

They slept under the stars and Aramis felt fine upon waking the next morning.

The day was sunny and a little warmer, and Aramis forgot all about what had happened to him the day before until they dismounted at a river when they stopped for water. Dizziness made his vision cloud over and he had to grab onto his horse to steady himself. It stopped as quickly as it had come, and for a moment, he wasn't even sure if it had really happened.

Porthos walked past him without noticing, and Aramis took his waterskin and followed. He knelt between both of his friends and reached towards the water to fill it…and everything unexpectedly turned black.

Athos watched in shock as Aramis suddenly fell into the water.

Porthos leaped to his feet before jumping in after him, grabbing his friend and lifting him towards Athos. "Tripped yourself again?!" he exclaimed, laughing.

"Porthos!" Athos said, reaching for Aramis but not able to grab him.

With a sinking feeling, Porthos realized that Aramis had not reached his hands up to be pulled out of the water, and he realized with shock that he was unconscious. He quickly pulled him back onto land, with Athos helping to drag him away from the edge. "What happened?!"

"I don't know," Athos said. He made sure their friend was breathing before pushing the wet hair out of Aramis' face and tapping his cheek. "Aramis!" he said.

With a gasp, Aramis woke. He started to cough, and the others helped him roll onto his side.

"What…" Aramis gasped. "Happened?"

"Don't _you_ know?" Porthos exclaimed. "For no reason, you passed out and fell into the river!"

Aramis suddenly felt lightheaded again, and groaned, trying to roll onto his back.

The other two helped him, and Athos started removing Aramis' weapons belts. "Talk to us, Aramis," he said, in a commanding tone. "Tell us what's wrong."

Aramis raised an arm and put a hand over his eyes. "I've felt dizzy a few times."

"Since when?"

"Yesterday. It happened twice, but that was it. I thought it was nothing."

Porthos reached over to untie the blue sash around Aramis' waist as Athos placed the weapons aside. "Passin' out and fallin' into a river isn't 'nothing'! You could've drowned! Why you feelin' dizzy?"

"I don't know," said Aramis, nervously. "It seems to be related to moving my head."

"Did it start before or after your mishap with Bella yesterday?" Athos asked.

"After," Aramis answered, hand still over his eyes. "But I can't see a connection…I didn't hit my head, as you saw."

"There's nothin' else you can come up with that could be causin' it?" said Porthos.

Aramis sighed. "No."

Porthos echoed the sigh, as he and Athos together got Aramis' soaked jacket off. "We'll set up camp here," Athos said.

Twenty minutes later, Aramis was changed into dry clothes and was laying on his bedroll, covered with blankets. They'd reclined him slightly upright against his saddle, and sat staring at him.

"You are well-versed in medical matters," said Athos. "Have you any opinion at all of what may be wrong with you?"

Aramis sighed. "It would be easier to diagnose if there were more symptoms, but there are not. I feel fine."

"Except for the dizziness," said Porthos.

"It's not there right now," Aramis replied.

"If you develop anything else, _anything_ ," said Athos. "I expect you to tell us immediately."

"I will," Aramis promised.

They ate supper and Athos forced Aramis to go to sleep. It took a while for him to doze off; anxiety filled him more and more as he tried to figure out what had made him pass out. Athos and Porthos alternately kept watch overnight, sitting beside their friend whenever it was their turn.

Aramis woke a couple of times, once to see Athos poking Porthos' snoring form to get him to quiet down. "Too late," he said. "I'm awake."

Athos stopped poking Porthos—who was lying on the other side of Aramis—and went back over to his spot and sat down. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Aramis told him. "Could I have some water?"

Athos grabbed a waterskin and pulled Aramis upright just high enough to drink.

Aramis drank his fill, sighing tiredly as Athos lowered his back down. "Thank you."

"Of course," Athos said. "Now sleep."

Aramis closed his eyes and obeyed.

The next morning, Aramis woke to an ache in his left ear. It felt like water was in it, and he kept sticking a finger inside and wiggling it around.

"What _are_ you doin'?" Porthos asked him.

"There's water in my ear," Aramis answered.

"That _is_ what usually happens when someone's head goes under water," Athos commented.

Aramis sighed. First he had to suffer the fright of an unexplained loss of consciousness, and now this.

Athos helped him recline against the saddle again and studied his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Aramis told him. "Except for this," he said, gesturing to his ear.

"I'm afraid time is the only thing that will help _that,_ " said Athos.

"Are we moving on?" Aramis asked, lowering his hand.

"That depends on _you_ ," Athos said. "I'm not inclined to think that there was no reason for you to pass out."

"We can't go back to Paris without the king's wine," Aramis told him.

"Burgundy has an inn," said Porthos. "We can get 'im there and then figure out what to do."

"Perhaps it truly was nothing and won't happen again," said Aramis.

Athos sighed. Porthos' words made sense. "We aren't going anywhere until you've eaten and drank enough to satisfy me and are able to confidently sit your horse."

"He can ride with me," Porthos said.

"I can ride _myself_ ," Aramis said. "I feel fine."

"We'll see," said Athos.

After they ate and Aramis drank half of Porthos' waterskin—having lost his own when he'd fallen into the river—Athos helped Aramis get his jacket on where he sat and tied the blue sash around his waist while Porthos saddled Bella.

"Ready?" Athos asked when Porthos returned with the horse.

"Yes," Aramis answered.

With that, they both pulled him to his feet and held onto him, watching to see if the upright position made him dizzy again.

It did, but it was minor, so Aramis said nothing, knowing that even normal people could feel that upon standing. "I'm fine," he said.

"No dizziness?" Athos asked.

"Just the barest hint," Aramis replied.

Athos' expression turned stern.

"I swear, just the slightest amount," Aramis told him.

Athos sighed, but said nothing. Getting Aramis to the inn in Burgundy where he could be seen by a doctor was still their best option.

The next step was getting Aramis onto his horse, and he managed fine with their help.

"Well?" Athos demanded as they watched him.

Aramis waited a few seconds before he answered. "No change," he said. "And that's the truth."

"If there _is_ a change while we're ridin', you better say somethin'," Porthos said. "We don't need you to pass out again and break a bone from fallin' off your horse."

"Believe me, I don't want that to happen even more than _you_ ," said Aramis.

"Good." Porthos quickly refilled his canteen, and they were again on their way.

TBC


	2. It Happened Again?

The day passed very slowly with Athos and Porthos riding on either side of Aramis, close enough to catch him should he fall, which thankfully didn't happen.

Aramis' left ear drove him insane, feeling like it was full of pressure. He started feeling lightheaded again, but it was manageable.

A hand suddenly grabbed his arm. "Aramis?"

"What?"Aramis answered, slightly startled as he turned his head towards Athos. A dizzy spell swept through his brain, making him tilt a little towards the left.

Athos tightened his hold. "I asked if you were all right."

Aramis blinked the dizziness away. "I'm fine," he answered, ridiculously. "It's my _ear_ that isn't."

"Water still in it?" Porthos asked.

"Yes," Aramis told him, sounding annoyed.

"Sleep on your left side tonight," said Porthos. "That should drip it out."

Aramis sighed. "I prefer sleeping on my back or right side."

"I _know_ that," said Porthos. "But if you wanna get rid of the water in your ear, sleep on the left and see if it helps."

Aramis sighed, before seeming to realize that he was bring ornery. "I'll try."

Athos intently watched him. "Aramis?" he said, hand still on his friend's arm.

With just that one word, Aramis knew what he was asking. "Yes, when I turned my head to look at you, it made me dizzy."

"No other symptoms?"

Aramis nearly shook his head, but remembered in time. "No."

"Do you wanna stop for a while?" Porthos asked.

In actuality, Aramis did; the lightheaded sensation having remained after turning his head. "No need, I'm fine."

"We aren't in a rush," said Athos. "Once we get to town, we are renting a room."

"Because of me?"

"Yes," Athos plainly told him. "You would do the same if it were one of us."

Aramis knew that to be true. "The king will be angry if we're late in returning."

"Then we'll make up a story if we have to," said Porthos. "We'll tell 'im the wine was stolen and it took us a while to rescue it."

"You mean _Treville_ will tell the king," said Aramis. "We can't tell the _captain_ such a lie."

"Then we give him the truth, that you fell ill on the road," said Athos. "It happens."

"But I'm fine...except for this," Aramis answered, gesturing towards the left side of his head.

"Then take it easy and we'll see what happens," said Porthos.

What happened was that the lightheadedness remained and continued to increase. By evening, Aramis was having frequent dizzy spells, and at one point, his body followed the motion in his head and he accidentally leaned over his horse against Athos, who grabbed him.

"Aramis?"

"Can we stop?" Aramis gasped, trying to straighten himself in the saddle but failing.

Athos pushed him back upright, relieved beyond words that he'd ridden so close to his friend, but worried that Aramis felt ill enough to actually ask them to stop. "Porthos!" he called.

The other musketeer had already jumped down from his horse and reached up to help Aramis down.

Aramis let his friend manhandle him, closing his eyes with a soft moan once he was shakily standing on the ground.

"You all right?" Porthos asked, holding him upright against Bella's side.

Aramis' head was spinning and he couldn't open his eyes. "I'll live," he mumbled...before promptly passing out in Porthos' arms.

Porthos was taken by surprise and pulled his friend's limp body closer to himself. "Aramis!" he exclaimed.

Athos had dismounted and hurried over, watching as Porthos lowered Aramis to the ground, keeping his upper body on his lap.

When they saw that Aramis was out cold, Porthos looked at Athos with a stricken expression.

Athos took the bedroll off Aramis' horse and dropped it to the ground before kneeling beside them.

"Aramis?" Porthos called, tapping his cheek. "Come on, this isn't funny!"

Aramis gave no reaction, eyes closed in unconsciousness.

"What's wrong with him?!" Porthos nervously exclaimed.

Athos had no answer.

Porthos tapped their friend's face again, and it seemed to work that time; Aramis softly groaned and his eyes scrunched tight with pain. He moved his head slightly, sluggishly lifting a hand to cover his left ear.

Athos squeezed his arm. "Aramis? Open your eyes."

Aramis obeyed, blinking repeatedly. "It happened again?" he asked, sounding dazed.

The others nodded.

"Tell us what you feel," Athos commanded.

Aramis kept blinking, hand still over his ear. "Dizzy...my ear hurts."

Porthos looked at Athos. "Do you think there's a connection with his ear?"

Athos sighed. "That started after he fell into the river...he passed out _before_ that."

Porthos nodded, before gesturing his chin towards the bedroll. "Lay that out."

Athos did and they gently moved Aramis onto it, turning him onto his left side.

Aramis sighed and closed his eyes.

Porthos patted his back. "Just rest. Whatever this is, I'm sure you'll be fine." He desperately hoped that he was telling him the truth.

"Has anything like this ever happened to you before?" Athos asked. "As a child? Before you became a musketeer?"

"Passing out for no reason? No," said Aramis.

The way he phrased that made Porthos frown. "So somethin' else happened?"

"As a child, I sometimes had trouble breathing," Aramis told them, opening his eyes. "I grew out of it."

The others were silent for a moment before Athos broke the silence. "I confess that this has me greatly concerned," he said. "There's nothing that you haven't told us?"

"Nothing," Aramis answered. He sighed and closed his eyes again. "We can't keep stopping because of me...we'll be late getting back to Paris with the wine."

"We have a week," said Porthos. "Three days to get there and three days to get back, there's an extra day left."

"We're supposed to arrive the night _before_ the king's dinner with the duke," Aramis said. "Today was day three and we haven't arrived yet because of me!"

"Cease worrying," said Athos. "Your health is more important."

"Yeah," said Porthos. "It's not as if you have a harmless sniffle; you keep _losing consciousness_ , for goodness sake!"

"We'll send a message regarding a possible delay to Treville when we arrive in town," Athos said.

Aramis sighed again, knowing that there was nothing he could do. He squirmed a little, not comfortable on his left side.

"Keep still," said Athos.

"I wish you could tell that to my head," Aramis replied.

"Still dizzy?" Porthos asked.

"Yes."

Both of the others sighed. "I wish there was somethin' we could do to help you," said Porthos.

"So do I," Aramis answered, wincing from the pain in his ear.

Sunset quickly came and they carefully turned Aramis over so he could eat.

"I'm not hungry," Aramis told them. His eyes were tightly closed with his hand fisted in Porthos' sleeve as he winced against the dizziness.

"Is your stomach bothering you?" Athos asked as they reclined him against his saddle.

"No," Aramis told him.

"Then you must eat," Athos replied. He kept a hand on his shoulder until Aramis opened his eyes.

With a sigh, Aramis blinked at him. His eyes seemed to track slowly and his face was pale.

The sight heightened Athos' concern. "We'll reach Burgundy tomorrow," he said, squeezing his shoulder. "We'll stop in Nevers and have a doctor look at you."

Aramis nodded slightly, knowing that only a fool would refuse.

Porthos passed around the food, with he and Athos staring at Aramis as he attempted to eat the meat, bread, and cheese. His struggle was obvious, and he only ate enough to satisfy them, after which he carefully laid down on his left side again in the hope that it would drain the water out of his ear.

The night passed in the same way as the night before, with Athos and Porthos dividing the watch.

Aramis woke before dawn and gave a loud groan.

"Aramis?" said Porthos.

Aramis winced and rolled onto his back with another groan, putting a hand over his ear.

Athos was on the other side of him asleep, and he instantly woke and sat up.

"It didn't work," Aramis mumbled.

Athos and Porthos shared a look over their friend's prone body. "I don't think there's water in his ear," said Porthos.

Athos shook his head. "When something damages an ear, such as the sound of an explosion, it renders the victim off-balance. Aramis, something must be wrong inside your ear."

"I'm inclined to agree," Aramis said, eyes squeezed closed.

"What do you think it is?" Porthos asked.

"I don't know," Aramis replied, wincing.

Porthos frowned. "It hurts that much?"

"Yes," Aramis told him.

"He needs to get to a doctor, Athos," Porthos exclaimed.

"I know," Athos replied, grabbing a waterskin. "Give him this. I'll pack up the camp."

Porthos nodded and slid an arm under their ailing friend. "Have some water," he said.

Aramis kept his eyes closed as he was pulled up high enough to drink. The water was heavenly and he gulped down nearly a quarter of it before he was satisfied.

"I'm gonna sit you up now," Porthos warned him.

Aramis said nothing as he was pulled up higher, and he cautiously opened his eyes, blinking against the lightheadedness that clouded his brain.

Porthos tightened the grip around his friend's back. "You all right?"

"Considering," Aramis answered, wincing when a stab of pain filled his ear.

Athos was quick, packing up the camp in record time before returning. He had Aramis' gloves and cloak with him, and they got them on him before carefully pulling him upright, holding on tightly when Aramis swayed dizzily.

"Stay awake, stay awake!" Porthos chanted.

Aramis did, but his head drooped and it took several seconds of heavy breathing before he could raise it again.

"You're riding with Porthos," Athos told him. "No argument."

Aramis quietly conceded, proving that it was the right decision.

As they rode off again, Athos and Porthos desperately hoped that there would be help for Aramis in Nevers.

TBC


	3. No Help

The three musketeers rode on with Aramis sitting in front of Porthos. The morning was cloudy and cool, and Porthos was glad that Athos had thought of the cloak and gloves for their ailing friend. "Are you warm enough?" he asked.

"Mm hmm," Aramis answered.

Their early stops the previous two nights made them arrive later than expected, and it was afternoon when they rode into Nevers. The painted tiles that adorned the houses and shops were a thing of wonder to behold.

Aramis had remained mostly silent during the ride, only speaking when spoken to, quietly resting against his friend. He'd refused food all day except for an apple, having no appetite. It was obvious that it was difficult for him to move his head with the dizziness that plagued him, so they left him alone, only forcing him to drink as much water as he could. He gave no comment on the colorful beauty that arrayed the town, which showed just how ill he felt; on another day, he would've reveled in the sight.

They rode straight to the closest inn and headed into the stable. Getting Aramis off the horse wasn't easy, as he seemed half asleep and uncoordinated. Once they had him on his feet, his knees buckled and Porthos had to carry him inside.

"Send for a doctor," Athos told the innkeeper. "Our friend needs help."

"We _have_ no doctor," the man told them.

"What?!" Porthos roared, cradling Aramis in his arms.

"We had _two_ ," said the man. "But one of them left town to visit family, and the other one unexpectedly died two days ago."

Porthos was speechless at first, until Aramis suddenly moved his head feebly as he regained consciousness. "Well give us a room, at least!" Porthos snapped.

The innkeeper nodded and handed Athos a key. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thank you," Athos said. "Our horses?"

The man nodded. "I'll take care of them."

Porthos followed Athos up the stairs and into the room, gently laying Aramis on the first bed. He was glad to see his friend's eyes open, though he was blinking blearily. "Back with us again?" he asked.

"Yes," Aramis weakly answered. "I passed out?"

"For the third time," said Athos, his voice full of concern. "And there's no doctor in town."

Aramis closed his eyes and put a hand over his left ear. "That's not good," he said, wincing.

"What do we do now, Aramis?" Porthos exclaimed, sitting on the bed beside him. "If we don't know what's wrong with you, how are we supposed to fix it?"

"I think I know what the problem is," Aramis told them.

"What?" Athos asked.

"There's a little girl at the orphanage named Suzette," Aramis said. "Last week, she was crying and had a hand on the side of her head. She sat on my lap all afternoon, sniffling into my jacket. I thought she had a headache, but I'm thinking perhaps it was her ear."

"So you're saying that this is a sickness?" Porthos asked.

Aramis sighed. "It seems possible."

"What _is_ it with you?" Porthos asked. "Every time you come in contact with a sick kid, you catch whatever they have!"*

"Not purposely, I assure you," Aramis tiredly answered.

"What other symptoms did she have?" Athos asked.

"I don't know," Aramis answered. "She is only two or three years old and doesn't say much. When I asked her what was wrong, all she said was 'hurts'."

Athos sighed.

"Well, you're in the right place, anyway," said Porthos, referring to the bed. He reached over to undo the buttons on Aramis' jacket. "If you're right, then it's like a cold or somethin' and you'll recover. That's a relief!"

" _If_ he's right," said Athos. "Did the child pass out at all?"

Aramis hesitated. "No."

Porthos looked at Athos, wishing he hadn't asked that. "Now I'm worried all over again," he said, returning his attention to Aramis' jacket.

"How exactly do you feel?" Athos asked Aramis. "Leave nothing out."

Aramis sighed. "There's a stabbing ache in my left ear and I'm dizzy. My head feels as if it's full of cotton and I'm tired."

Porthos pulled Aramis upright so he could pull his arms out of the jacket sleeves, and Aramis tipped sideways to the left.

Athos reached out to grab him, sitting on the side of the bed and throwing Porthos a look.

"Sorry," Porthos said, not having realized what would happen.

Aramis' head was lowered and he gasped a few times against the dizziness. "And...my balance keeps wanting to shift to the left," he said, his voice sounding weak.

That made sense, since it was his left ear that was affected.

Athos placed a hand on Aramis' forehead. "No fever." He held Aramis up as Porthos got the jacket off before lowering him back down to the bed.

Aramis sighed and closed his eyes.

Porthos got up and pulled Aramis' boots off before pulling the blanket up to his chest. Afterwards, he and Athos stood staring at him.

"When one of us is sick, the first thing Aramis does after he puts us to bed is get us some hot broth," Porthos said.

Athos nodded. "I'll fetch it and see if I can send a message to Captain Treville." With that, he left the room and headed downstairs.

The innkeeper looked up with concern. "How is your friend? What is his injury?"

The _last_ thing Athos wanted the man to know was that he had a sick customer...he'd likely panic and toss them out in fear of the plague. "He was thrown from his horse and hit his head," he lied.

The innkeeper winced.

"Do you have any hot broth?" Athos asked. "He is conscious and asked for some."

"Of course," said the man, heading for the kitchen.

Athos walked over to the log book that sat on the counter and signed their names in it, before ripping a piece of paper out of the back.

 _Captain,_

 _Aramis has fallen ill and we will be delayed in returning. The wine will arrive in time for the duke's dinner, but not the day before as originally planned._

 _Athos_

Athos folded it before locating a candle and dripping wax onto it, using his thumb as a seal. He glanced up as the innkeeper returned with a large mug.

"This will likely be easier for him than a bowl," said the man, placing it down on the counter.

The delicious scent that wafted through the air made Athos want some too. "Thank you," he said, before holding up his message. "Is there anyone in town who can take this to Paris? It needs to get there with all haste."

The innkeeper looked at it, seeing 'Captain Treville, Musketeer Garrison, Paris' written on it. "I _thought_ you were musketeers, but I wasn't sure," he said. "I can find out for you."

Athos nodded. "Thank you." He took the mug and headed back up the stairs, entering the room to find Porthos removing his doublet and draping it over a chair. "Is he asleep?" he asked, looking towards Aramis.

"No," Porthos told him. He took the mug out of Athos' hand and headed over to the bed, placing it on the bedside table. "Aramis? We have your favorite…hot broth."

Aramis opened his eyes and tried to sit himself up, so Porthos shoved an arm under him to help. He grabbed the mug and placed it to Aramis' lips, slowly feeding it to him until Aramis had drunk every drop. He then laid him back down and fussed with the blanket. " _Now_ you can sleep," he said.

Aramis closed his eyes, and the pain-lines in his face smoothed out in slumber mere moments later.

Athos led Porthos away from the bed. "I will continue on and fetch the wine," he whispered.

Porthos frowned.

"It's only the next town over," said Athos. "I can be there and back before supper."

That was true, especially if he rode fast. Porthos had no reason to try to stop him, so he nodded. "All right; that'll buy time for Aramis to rest."

Athos nodded. "If he wakes, tell him not to worry."

Porthos nodded back, knowing very well that Aramis would fear Athos getting into trouble without them there to help.

Athos quietly left the room and found the innkeeper outside about to come back in. "I found someone to take your message," he said. "A young man heading to Paris to meet up with his father. He plans to leave after supper and ride all night."

"Excellent," said Athos. He followed the innkeeper outside to find a young man waiting.

"This needs to get to Captain Treville at the musketeer garrison at the earliest possibly moment," Athos told him, holding it out. "It's regarding a mission for the king."

"Yes sir!" said the boy.

"It must be there no later than Friday morning," said Athos. He handed him a coin. "If you arrive on time, Captain Treville will have another one of these for you."

The boy's eyes grew huge. "I'll have it there on time!" he exclaimed.

"Good. Now go," said Athos.

The boy ran off.

"I shall return later," Athos told the innkeeper. With that, he headed into the stable, saddled his horse, and rode out.

TBC

* 'Things Aren't What they Seem': story ID 11946024


	4. Expensive Wine

When Aramis woke a few hours later, the first thing he noticed was that his left ear was ringing. The second thing he noticed was that someone was missing. "Where's Athos?" he asked, feeling a sudden unease.

"He went to get the wine," Porthos answered. "How do you feel?"

"He went alone?"

Porthos nodded. "Obviously. We _are_ all capable of goin' somewhere alone without trouble findin' us...well, except for _you._ How do you feel?"

Aramis sighed. "My ear is ringing," he told him, putting a hand over it.

Porthos echoed the sigh. "I wish there was somethin' I could do."

Aramis closed his eyes and shifted slightly to get more comfortable. "Any bricks?"

Porthos looked towards the fireplace and spotted a pile. "Yeah. You cold?"

"No, but heat might help the pain," Aramis answered.

Porthos stood and went to the fireplace, throwing a brick in and waiting for it to heat up. Once it did, he carefully wrapped it in a towel and brought it back. "This won't be comfortable to lay your head on."

"It'll be worth it," Aramis said, wincing as a stab of pain laced through his ear.

Porthos placed the brick on the bed and made sure the towel completely covered it so it couldn't burn Aramis' face, and then he helped his friend turn over to lay on it.

Aramis kept his eyes closed as his head spun from the movement, before sighing with relief as the warmth spread into his ear.

"Lyin' on it doesn't make it hurt worse?" Porthos asked.

"No," Aramis answered. "The pain is deep inside."

Porthos nodded and fixed the blanket over him.

"When did Athos leave?" Aramis asked.

"Hours ago," Porthos told him. "He said to tell you not to worry and that he'd be back in time for supper. I've been waiting to get food in order to give 'im a chance," he said with a chuckle. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Aramis said.

"Are you sure? We don't have to wait for Athos."

"Not hungry even the slightest bit," Aramis answered. "I'd rather not move, anyway."

Porthos sighed. "Well, if you want anythin', I'm expectin' ya to tell me."

"Thank you, my friend," Aramis said with a slight smile.

Porthos patted his arm, and the door suddenly opened, admitting Athos.

"Is he awake?" Athos whispered.

"Yes," Aramis answered, opening his eyes. "And glad to see you."

"Didn't Porthos tell you not to worry?" Athos commented.

"Of course I did," Porthos told him. "But you know Aramis."

Athos nodded fondly, placing a satchel on the table and sitting on the side of the bed. "I'm sure it's too soon to ask if you're feeling any better."

"Too soon," Aramis confirmed. "Though this brick is a help."

Athos placed his hand on the side of the towel and felt the heat that emanated from it. "I'm glad you found some relief," he said. "Would you like to see the wine?"

"You mean you didn't drink it?" Porthos quipped.

Athos shot him a mock-stern look before taking the satchel and opening it. He took out one bottle and handed it to Porthos before showing the other to Aramis.

Aramis blinked at it, feeling groggy and unable to fully focus.

Athos saw his difficulty, and frowned with concern. "It's from 1575," he said. "A rich Cote d'Or."

"Impressive," Aramis commented.

"I have a mind to open this right up and taste it," said Porthos.

"If you do, the king will have your head," Athos replied.

"We can tell the king that a thief came after us and stole one of the bottles!" Porthos said.

Athos looked at him as if he were insane.

Aramis chuckled, which had been Porthos' goal all along.

"There is no need to steal the king's priceless wine," said Athos. He picked up the satchel again and took out a third bottle. "Not as old, but likely just as good."

Porthos laughed and put the king's wine down. "Now _that's_ what I call a friend," he said, taking the bottle out of Athos' hand. He quickly opened it and took a sniff, before giving an appreciative look.

"The innkeeper is bringing our supper," Athos said to Aramis. "Can you sit up?"

Aramis opened his mouth to say that he wasn't hungry.

"He'll have to," said Porthos. "If he wants to taste this wine, he has to eat."

Aramis wasn't surprised at all.

The innkeeper knocked on the door a short time later and Athos took the tray, thanking him and bringing it over to the bed. "I had him make you soup," he said, as Porthos helped Aramis sit up.

Aramis was relieved at that; his friends knew that soup was the only thing he ever wanted when ill. "Thank you," he said, closing his eyes with a wince when the upright position made his head spin.

Porthos grasped his shoulder when Aramis tilted to the left.

It was several seconds before Aramis could reopen his eyes, and he found a cup of wine before his face.

"I cannot help but assume that this will make you worse," Athos said.

Aramis smiled slightly. With his head already dizzy, alcohol would definitely increase it. "No doubt," he said. "But at the same time, it might help."

"You'll be falling off the bed before you drink enough of it to help the pain," Porthos said.

"True," said Aramis, taking the cup and not being surprised when Athos didn't let go. "But if this is enough to addle my wits at all, then I won't notice the pain quite as much." With that, he took a sip and his eyes opened wider. "Delicious," he said.

Porthos was pouring cups for himself and Athos, and he drank some of his own as he handed the other cup over. "It _is_...Athos, good choice!"

"Then it is good that I bought two," Athos said, sipping his own.

Porthos laughed.

Aramis ate his soup and they only allowed him one cup of wine...which was bad enough in the state that he was in. He was right that it would addle his wits somewhat, and he eventually fell into a half-awake doze.

Athos and Porthos quietly watched him.

"Do you think he's right?" Porthos whispered. "That this is somethin' he'll easily recover from?"

Athos shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered back. "The fainting is quite concerning."

Porthos sighed. "Two doctors in this town, and one leaves and the other dies right before we arrive. Ridiculous!"

He whispered it a little too loudly and Aramis suddenly moved his head, making a sleepy sound.

"Hush," Athos told Porthos.

They were quiet after that and darkness eventually fell. Aramis remained asleep for most of the night, waking a few times with a groan. Each occurrence lasted only a few minutes except for one, and after Athos placed a heated towel under his ear, Aramis fell back to sleep.

Morning dawned bright and sunny, and Athos and Porthos knew that they had to leave soon in order to arrive in Paris in time for the duke's dinner.

"I should go and leave the two of you here," Athos said. "Aramis should not be forced to ride in his condition."

Porthos reluctantly nodded. "You do know how mad he'll get when he finds out?"

Athos nodded back. "But it's for the best."

"Oh no it isn't!" they heard.

Turning towards the bed, they found Aramis sitting up. "You are _not_ leaving without me!" he exclaimed.

"You need to rest," said Athos.

"And _you_ are carrying wine that cost a fortune," Aramis said. "What if someone knows, sees you riding alone, and kills you for it? I feel better and I'm coming with you."

The other two studied him. Aramis didn't _look_ any better, though they were glad to see him sitting up without tilting over.

"You may feel better _now_ ," said Athos. "But that will likely change after we leave."

"I'll ride with one of you if I have to," Aramis answered. "But I am _not_ staying here."

Athos knew that he would likely regret his decision, but he nodded.

Aramis was useless when it came to dressing himself. Porthos helped him get his jacket and boots on as Athos packed their things.

"If you faint upon standing, you are staying here," Athos told him.

Aramis said nothing, looking up at Porthos, who pulled one of Aramis' arms around his shoulder before wrapping an arm around his waist and carefully pulling him upright.

Aramis' head immediately spun, but he locked his knees before they could buckle and forced his eyes to remain open, even as a roaring sound and pounding sensation filled his left ear.

If either of the others saw his eyes roll as he fought to stay conscious, no one mentioned it.

"Di'nt faint," Aramis slurred as his head fell onto Porthos' shoulder.

Athos and Porthos shared a glance and Porthos tightened his grip.

A few seconds later, Aramis tried to straighten and take a wobbly step. "Let's go," he said, his words clear now that he was no longer hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

Porthos slowly helped Aramis out the door and down the stairs, with Athos gripping his other arm to keep him steady. Once at the bottom, Athos headed over to the counter as Porthos led Aramis towards the door.

The innkeeper was quietly watching. "You're leaving already with your friend in such a state?"

"Yes…foolishly," Athos. "Do you have any more of that broth that we can take with us?"

The innkeeper nodded, writing out their bill before heading back to the kitchen.

Athos placed some coins on the counter and waited.

The innkeeper came out with two large canteens. "I made a new batch this morning. This should be enough to get him to Paris."

Athos was surprised. "It's much appreciated," he said. He put a couple of extra coins on the counter before taking the canteens and heading towards the stable, where he found Aramis and Porthos sitting on a bale of hay.

"I didn't wanna try to get him mounted without you," Porthos told him.

Athos nodded at his wisdom, and together they got Aramis on Porthos' horse with Porthos sitting behind him. "Now I don't wanna hear anything outta you except for snores," Porthos said.

Aramis smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head back on his friend's shoulder. "You know I'm the only one of us who doesn't snore."

"Then you'd better learn quick," said Porthos.

Aramis chuckled.

They started riding towards the edge of town, and Aramis was awake enough that time to enjoy the sight of the colored roofs. "I wonder why Paris hasn't done anything like that."

"Hey," said Porthos. "That doesn't sound like snorin'!"

Aramis smiled and fell silent.

The bright sun didn't last very long and was covered by clouds a couple of hours later. Athos and Porthos rode silently, not wanting to disturb Aramis, who had eventually dozed off. He woke around noon and they decided to stop to eat.

Aramis was groggy and uncoordinated, and it took both of the others to get him off the horse without incident. He reeled dizzily and they had to sit him down where he stood.

Aramis kept his eyes closed, silently appreciating the hand that tightly grasped his shoulder. He heard noises indicative of a fire being built and lit, and the warmth that suddenly reached him made him open his eyes.

Athos was pouring the broth into a small pan and placing it at the edge of the fire to warm.

"It looks like it's gonna get cold," Porthos suddenly said.

Athos looked up at the cloudy sky just as a light wind suddenly blew. With a sigh, he looked at Aramis critically, knowing that he shouldn't have let him leave the inn.

Aramis said nothing, leaning against Porthos with his eyes closed, enjoying the heat on his face from the fire.

A few minutes later, a touch on his arm made him open his eyes.

"Here," said Athos, holding the cup.

Aramis raised his hand to take it and slowly drank, making a sound of bliss at the wonderful flavor. The heat felt good as it spread through his chest and stomach, and he drank it quickly.

They left shortly after eating, knowing that time was against them now that they'd used their extra day. Aramis never complained, even when he had to be manhandled atop Athos' horse, his brain spinning too much to let himself help in any way. After he was mounted and Athos was sitting behind him, Porthos took a blanket out of his pack and spread it over Aramis to keep him warm.

Aramis remained quiet but he didn't sleep. As the day wore on, he felt progressively worse; the ache in his ear grew and eventually enveloped his entire head with pain. He said nothing though, as he knew that nothing could be done.

The weather remained cool and cloudy all day but it thankfully didn't rain.

"Aramis?" said Athos.

"Hmm?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Alive."

Porthos snorted at that, but there wasn't much humor in it.

Athos could feel their sick friend shivering, and he reached up a hand to feel his forehead. "You're feverish," he realized.

"Not surprising," Aramis answered, his head resting back against his friend's shoulder.

"We're stopping," said Athos.

"No, it's too early," Aramis said, opening his eyes and trying to lift his head. "The further we get, the sooner we'll get get home with the king's wine. I can last a few more hours."

"You have a fever," said Athos.

"You already said that," Aramis replied, closing his eyes against the dizziness caused by moving. "Whether on a bedroll or this horse, I'm resting. It makes no difference."

Athos looked at Porthos, who appeared torn. If they didn't make it back before the Duke's dinner, they knew that the king would likely have their heads. Plus, the sooner they got back, the sooner Aramis could take to his bed.

Athos said nothing, but continued to ride.

Aramis eventually dozed off, and woke when they tried to get him down from the horse. He was startled but let them pull him off and sit him on his bedroll before wrapping him in blankets. It was dark, and he closed his eyes and dozed on Porthos' shoulder until another cup of broth appeared before his face and he eagerly drank it, giving a shudder when the wonderful warmth spread through his body.

Aramis' head and ear were throbbing, and he kept his eyes closed with a wince once the empty cup was pulled away. He didn't react when they tried to get him to eat, and when the cup touched his lips again, he drank the second helping of broth and remained unresponsive as they laid him down on his left side and made sure he was completely covered. He felt a hand on his arm through the blankets, and fell asleep to his friend's concerned expressions.

TBC


	5. Miserable

Aramis slept like a log, to his friends' relief. He woke only once with a groan and a sniffle, and his fever remained low. The morning greeted him with a high-pitched ringing in his ear, which was throbbing with pain along with his head. He quietly lay huddled under his blankets, wincing but not voicing his pain, to avoid the attention that it would bring from his friends.

A hand suddenly touched his forehead, and it startled him, making his body jump slightly.

"He's awake," Athos' voice said.

Aramis heard something get placed on the ground before footsteps brought Porthos closer. A different hand touched his forehead and Aramis tried to open his eyes, but failed.

"Aramis?" said Porthos.

A groan answered him before Aramis had a chance to prevent it.

Lighter footsteps moved away, and Aramis assumed that Athos had gone to fetch something. When he was gently turned over and held slightly upright in a muscled arm, it was obvious why, and Aramis submitted as a cup of broth touched his lips.

To Aramis, nothing was better and more comforting than flavorful, hot broth, and he drank it eagerly. Afterwards, he found enough strength to open his eyes, and looked into his friend's faces.

"You look terrible," Athos told him, without humor.

"Thank you," Aramis croaked. Unexpectedly, speaking made him cough, and coughing made the scenery spin around him in a sickening manner.

Porthos tightened his hold on him. "What are we gonna do, Athos? He's not fit to ride."

"I can see that," said Athos. "But as much sense as it makes to leave you here and go on myself, Aramis needs a warm bed and a doctor."

As if on cue, the wind suddenly blew, and Aramis realized that the weather was the same as it had been yesterday; windy, cloudy, and cool. He shivered.

Porthos looked up at the dreary sky before nodding. "Sorry, Aramis...looks like another day of sleeping in the saddle for you. We should've stayed at the inn!"

Aramis sighed. Part of him agreed, but the rest of him just wanted to get _home_.

A half hour later, they were again riding, with Aramis on Porthos' horse again. He didn't bother trying to stay awake, knowing that the day would pass faster if he slept. He had a hard time though, as the pain in his ear and head eventually started to spread behind his eyes and nose. The pain stung his eyes and made them watery, and he sluggishly lifted a hand to wipe them.

"Hey," Porthos said. "How you feelin'?"

"Miserable," Aramis answered, without thinking.

Both Athos and Porthos were surprised to hear him say that, as Aramis usually downplayed his condition.

"I wish there was somethin' we could do," Porthos said, adjusting the blanket around his friend and holding him tighter.

Aramis closed his eyes and sighed, which made him cough. "You're doing it," he said, before rubbing his eyes again.

"What's wrong?" Athos asked.

"Nothing."

"Aramissssss," Porthos said, in a warning tone.

Aramis nearly sighed, but caught himself in time. "The pain is spreading."

"To where?!" Porthos asked, alarmed.

"Through my head and behind my eyes and nose," Aramis answered, before coughing again. He winced when the ringing in his ear abruptly increased, and he suddenly wished that he could just knock himself out to get a reprieve.

A hand suddenly touched him, and Aramis lifted his head to see that Athos had ridden closer and had taken his arm. Moving his head made his head spin and the ringing increased even more, drowning out all other sound.

"Aramis?" Athos said with urgency in his tone. It was obvious that he'd been speaking but Aramis hadn't answered.

"What?" Aramis asked, his vision going fuzzy while his mind drifted away somewhere.

"Did you hear what I said?" Athos asked.

"Not with the ringing bells," Aramis answered, his voice slurry. He closed his eyes and his head drooped a little.

Athos and Porthos exchanged a glance over their sick friend's head.

Porthos sighed angrily. "I'd like to shove the king's wine—"

"Porthos," said Athos. "Quiet; let Aramis sleep."

Porthos sighed again and tightened the hold on his friend.

Aramis was quiet for most of the day; when it regarded speaking, at least. He coughed more and more until it became a regular occurrence, and his nose eventually started to run.

"Argh!" Aramis exclaimed at one point as he wiped his nose.

"Blow it," Porthos told him.

Aramis made an incredulous sound. "I'm sure that'll do wonders for my spinning head!"

"But perhaps it will clear your ear somewhat," said Athos.

Aramis hadn't thought of that, his mind was too fuzzy for intelligent reasoning. "Might as well try," he said. "If I pass out, Porthos will catch me." He raised his handkerchief and blew his nose.

Instantly, the feeling of fullness in his ear multiplied, and everything spun around him in circles. He managed to wipe his nose before his head fell forward, and he felt Porthos tighten his hold and Athos grab his arm. Their voices were calling his name, but his hearing was suddenly so dimmed that he ignored them.

The motion of the horse stopped, and Aramis felt his mind drifting in the air somewhere. It seemed an eternity before he realized that he was being manhandled off the horse, and he opened his eyes and grabbed onto the pommel of the saddle. "No!" he exclaimed, before he even knew how to form the words. "We have to get back to Paris or we risk the king's wrath!"

Athos stopped trying to pull him down. "Aramis..."

"Let's go," Aramis said, talking over him when he didn't hear his voice; the ringing and blockage in his left air preventing it.

Athos looked up at Porthos, who shook his head with an exasperated expression. With a sigh, Athos remounted, and they rode on.

That was the last thing that Aramis said until they stopped that evening. The temperature grew colder than it should've for early autumn, enhanced by the wind. Athos and Porthos carefully got Aramis off the horse, but he resisted when they tried to sit him down.

"I've been sitting or lying down non-stop," he said, leaning against the horse. "Let me stand for a moment."

Athos nodded and made sure that Porthos was holding onto him before moving away to start a fire.

"You good for a minute, then?" Porthos asked, wanting to get their supplies down.

"Yes," Aramis told him, trying to ignore his dizziness.

Porthos let go slowly, making sure that Aramis had a reliable grip, and he turned away to get the bedrolls.

Aramis felt a stinging feeling growing behind his nose, and realized that he was going to sneeze. He held his breath and succeeded in suppressing it, but it still made his head jerk and plug up his ear even more.

Without a sound, Aramis passed out and dropped to the ground like a rock.

Porthos and Athos turned at the sound, and quickly knelt beside him.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed, tapping his cheek.

"You let _go_ of him?!" Athos exclaimed.

Porthos glanced at him. "Just for a moment! He said I could!"

"Of course he did," said Athos. "This is Aramis! He claims to be fine even with a bullet in him!"

Porthos growled, at himself more than anyone, knowing that Athos was right.

Athos pulled Aramis' bedroll down and they gently placed him on it, covering him up with every blanket they had before Athos finished getting the fire going.

Aramis remained unconscious longer that time, and woke with a feeble moan.

"Easy there, Aramis," Porthos said, gently sliding an arm under him. "Drink."

A cup touched Aramis' lips and he obeyed, grateful for the soothing heat of the delicious broth. He drank it all and wasn't surprised when Porthos tightened the grip on him afterwards instead of laying him back down.

Porthos handed the empty cup to Athos and pushed Aramis' hair out of his face. "Hey, can you look at us?"

Aramis barely heard what he said; his left ear was throbbing and ringing like there was no tomorrow.

Athos and Porthos shared a concerned glance when he didn't react.

"Aramis," said Athos. "Can you hear us?"

The sound of his voice got through slightly, but not the words. "What?" Aramis mumbled.

Athos reached forward to touch his arm. "Open your eyes."

"I can't hear you," Aramis told him.

Athos frowned, before realizing that Aramis' left side was facing him, with his right ear against Porthos' chest. "Lie him down, he appears to have lost some hearing in his left ear."

Porthos frowned nervously as he obeyed. "Can you hear us?" he loudly asked.

Aramis opened his eyes. "Barely. It sounds like someone is ringing the dinner bell."

Porthos sighed and felt his forehead. "Still have a fever. You can hear out your _right_ ear, right?"

"What?"

"I guess that answers my question," Porthos commented. He pointed at his own right ear before pointing at Aramis.

Aramis figured out what he was asking. "My right ear is fine but the ringing is drowning everything out." He reached up a hand to his left ear with a wince. "It feels like someone stuffed something in there," he said.

"Sit up," Athos said. He stood and fetched one of the saddles before bringing it back and placing it behind Aramis when Porthos pulled him upright.

Aramis started coughing, pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket and wiping his nose.

"I still say that getting all that out would help," Athos loudly said from Aramis' right.

Aramis managed to hear him. "It would." He held the handkerchief to his nose.

"Don't make yourself pass out again!" Porthos exclaimed.

Aramis shot him a look as if to say, 'I _know_ that', but it fell flat because of his tired, pale features. He blew his nose slowly and _very_ gently, making a face at the messy result. "Ugh," he said, before coughing again.

The other two watched him intently, and when Aramis looked at them, he almost laughed.

"Did it help?" Porthos asked.

Aramis nodded slightly, feeling dizzy. "A little." The throbbing in his head and ear suddenly increased and his head lolled without his permission. He didn't realize that his eyes were closed until a hand suddenly appeared under his chin and lifted it up.

"Aramis?" said Porthos, worriedly.

Blinking dazedly, Aramis gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry. Can't hear you."

Porthos sighed, before turning his head when Athos apparently said something, and a cup suddenly appeared before Aramis' face.

The hot broth soothed his mind as it spread its delicious warmth through his body, and Aramis suddenly wondered how on earth some people didn't like broth.

"What was that, Aramis?"

Blinking, Aramis realized that he must've spoken aloud. "I can't understand people who don't like broth."

Porthos smiled before putting the empty cup down and fussing with the blankets that covered his sick friend.

Aramis started coughing, before swallowing mucus and making a face.

"That's not coming from your lungs, is it?" Athos asked.

Aramis coughed again and gave no reaction to his words. It took Athos a few seconds to realize that he'd spoken too quietly for Aramis' ringing ear to hear him.

Porthos noticed and asked Aramis louder, before Athos could repeat himself.

"No, thankfully," Aramis told them. "Dripping down from the back of my nose."

Porthos copied Aramis' disgusted expression, though he and Athos were relieved to hear that.

Athos came closer and felt Aramis' forehead. His fever wasn't high…but that didn't mean that it wouldn't grow worse. "Eat and sleep. We have one more day of riding."

Aramis ate sparingly, but he ate. He was glad to be nearly home, but he was _not_ looking forward to the rest of the trip…

TBC


	6. Home, Finally!

The night passed slowly and Aramis slept badly, unable to breathe through his nose. The others took turns keeping watch, and morning dawned with three very tired musketeers, and Aramis couldn't keep his eyes open.

Athos reached over to check his fever again. "I'm sorry, but we need to leave if we're to reach the garrison by evening," he said, remembering to speak loud enough that time for Aramis' ringing ear to hear him.

Aramis nodded, eyes closed. "I know." He kept his eyes shut, his head lolling to the side slightly as he seemed to drift off.

Athos transferred his hand to Aramis' cheek, feeling the heat in his skin and realizing that there was one advantage to the chilly weather; it might be keeping Aramis' fever from rising.

He and Porthos packed up the campsite, letting Aramis sleep until the last possible moment. When they finally transferred him to Porthos' horse, he was groggy and quiet, letting them manhandle him into the saddle and saying nothing as they wrapped him in blankets and started off.

The morning passed in a haze to Aramis, who felt dazed and foggy. His ear was still ringing and the pain had not abated, radiating through his head and behind his eyes and nose. He shivered despite the blankets, and was grateful for Porthos' warmth on the side of his face where he rested it against his friend's chest.

Athos and Porthos stayed quiet so Aramis could sleep, and they stopped only long enough to heat up the rest of the broth and some large rocks to stick in his blankets.

Aramis rested easier thanks to the heated rocks, and when mid-afternoon approached, he was abruptly woken by the pounding of horses' hooves. Groggily opening his eyes, he watched blearily as a group of men approached them. He felt no tension from Porthos, so, assured that there was no danger, he closed his eyes again.

Athos and Porthos were immensely relieved to see Captain Treville leading a group of musketeers, and Athos dismounted as Treville did the same.

"What on earth happened?!" Treville asked, a thrill of fear filling him at the sight of Aramis on Porthos' horse.

Athos was surprised. "No one brought a message to the garrison?"

"What message?" asked Treville, as he headed towards Aramis.

"I sent a message from Nevers informing you that Aramis fell ill and we would be delayed," Athos told him.

"I never received it," Treville told him as he reached up to move Aramis' hair so he could see into his pale face. "He has a fever."

Aramis blearily opened his eyes at the touch, and showed obvious surprise to see Treville standing there. "Captain," he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

Treville opened his mouth to answer, but Athos stopped him. "You have to speak very loudly or he won't be able to hear you."

"What?" Treville loudly exclaimed at Athos' words.

"That's _my_ line," Aramis remarked with a chuckle, which made him start coughing.

Treville sighed and glanced at him before looking at Athos again. "Give me the wine, I'll send it back with someone else."

Athos fetched the sack and handed it over, heading back to Aramis as their sick friend continued to cough.

Treville sent the wine off with four of his men, before returning and watching as Aramis continued to cough with one hand pressing the blanket against his mouth. "Let's get him home, you can explain as we ride."

Athos nodded and remounted, and they were off.

The three musketeers were immensely relieved that Treville had come looking for them, releasing them from the burden of trying to make it on time with the king's wine. When Athos mentioned Aramis fainting, and that it had happened five times, Treville was astonished. He looked over at Aramis and turned his horse to ride between Athos and Porthos, reaching out a hand to touch Aramis gently.

Aramis opened his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Treville asked.

"What?" Aramis asked.

Treville shook his head, having forgotten to speak loudly. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm just fine," Aramis said, smiling slightly.

Treville returned the smile as he felt his soldier's forehead, finding the fever unchanged. "The spectacularness of your skills includes falling ill, Aramis. Something needs to be done about this."

"I'm open to suggestions," Aramis quipped.

Treville chuckled, though there was nothing humorous about the situation.

When Paris finally came into view in the distance, Porthos gave a sigh of relief that roused Aramis from dozing. He shivered and huddled his face further into the blanket, before opening his eyes and seeing the city. For some reason, the sight of the buildings combined with the motion of the horse sent his vision into a whirl, making him gasp and close his eyes again.

"Aramis?" said Porthos.

The ringing in Aramis' ear intensified, and his headache increased. Hands suddenly touched him, which only served to further disorient him, and he made a sound of distress when he felt like he was falling.

"Get him down," Treville told Athos, firmly grabbing hold of Aramis and tugging him free from Porthos' hold.

Athos obeyed, helping the captain get their friend off the horse.

Treville was taken by surprise when Aramis slumped in his arms, unable to stand. He gently lowered him to the ground with Athos' help and knelt with Aramis' upper body on his lap.

Athos reached for Aramis' bedroll as Porthos dismounted.

Treville stared into Aramis' face, concerned to see him unconscious. He shifted Aramis into one arm and tapped his cheek. "Aramis!" he said. "Aramis?" It had no effect.

Porthos knelt before him and watched his sick friend for a few seconds before glancing up at Treville, mirroring his concern.

Athos placed the bedroll on the ground and they carefully laid Aramis on it as they waited for him to wake.

Five minutes later, Aramis stirred, wincing and dragging a hand up to his ear. It took him a few seconds to remember what had happened, and he opened his eyes to see Treville and his two friends looking down at him. "What?" he mumbled.

"You fainted," was Athos' dry comment. "Again."

"Musketeers don't faint," Aramis groggily answered. "We 'pass out'."

"Well you seem to 'pass out' a lot lately," Porthos said, though he was glad to see that Aramis still had his sense of humor.

"Not by choice," Aramis replied, shifting slightly to sit up. His friends helped him and he leaned against Porthos' solid form, closing his eyes and breathing heavily when his head spun and the ringing in his ears increased again. Muffled sounds met his ears, but he couldn't make anything out until he eventually opened his eyes and saw the other musketeers that still remained of the group that had accompanied Treville.

"How do you feel?" Treville asked.

The ringing was still too loud, and Aramis said, "What?"

Treville shifted a little closer to him. "How do you feel? Should we make camp for a while?"

The wind suddenly blew, and Aramis dissolved into shivers as the fever took a greater hold on him. "I-I'd rather get home," he said.

Treville frowned at the uncharacteristic stutter and reached out to feel his forehead. "You feel warmer," he said.

"Not surprising," Aramis replied, closing his eyes. "Because the rest of me feels _colder._ "

Porthos made a sound of dismay at that and tightened the grip around his friend.

Treville turned to look at Athos as the other musketeer returned with a waterskin. "His fever is rising," he said. "We must get him back without further delay."

Athos frowned at that and felt Aramis' forehead for himself, before opening the waterskin and holding it to their sick friend's lips. Once his thirst was sated, they got him mounted with Porthos again and rode off.

The next few hours passed more quickly to Aramis than he expected, and when they rode into the garrison and hands reached up to pull him down, he was shocked to see that it was dark. "The king's wine!" he exclaimed. "We're late!"

"No, Aramis," said Treville. "The king received his wine on time, everything is fine."

Aramis couldn't hear him over the ringing. "What?"

"He has the wine," Porthos said into his ear as he lowered Aramis down from the horse.

Aramis said nothing to that, and he concentrated on trying to stand on shaky legs. Everything around him was spinning, and he couldn't even tell if he was standing straight.

"I'll carry 'im!" he heard Porthos exclaim.

Aramis closed his eyes, and a moment later, the hands holding him up were replaced with Porthos' arms, carefully lifting him. Aramis sighed, forgetting that it would make him cough.

"You're gonna be fine now that we're home," Porthos told him. "You'll see."

Suddenly, Aramis was being laid on his bed and he didn't resist as his jacket was removed. He kept his eyes closed and didn't remember much until unfamiliar hands were suddenly touching him.

"He fainted six times," he suddenly heard a muffled voice say.

"Seven," someone corrected. "If you consider the fact that we haven't been able to wake him for the last ten minutes."

Aramis' senses drifted again for a few seconds until a hand felt his forehead. It sent a shiver through his body which seemed to increase his headache, and he couldn't prevent the soft moan that passed his lips.

"Aramis!" came Porthos' voice.

Opening his eyes slightly, Aramis blinked blearily at the faces above him, one of which he didn't recognize. "Will I live?" he croaked.

The old doctor smiled kindly. "I'm sure you will."

Aramis smiled slightly, before coughing. A cup touched his lips a minute later, and he gratefully drank the water that it contained.

The others stayed while the doctor examined their friend, and Porthos could barely hold in his questions. It took Athos' hand squeezing his arm to keep him quiet.

Finally, the doctor was finished. "I've seen ear infections in children, but this is the first time I've seen one this severe in an adult."

Porthos finally couldn't hold his tongue. "Infection?" he echoed nervously.

The doctor glanced at him from where he sat on the side of Aramis' bed. "Not the same kind of infection that poisons the blood from a festering wound. It's similar, but it won't get into the bloodstream."

"He was recently exposed to a child with a hurting ear," Athos mentioned.

The doctor nodded. "He picked it up that way, I'm sure. With the pressure behind his eyes and nose I fear that it has spread to his sinuses."

"To his what?" asked Porthos.

The doctor motioned to his own face. "The nasal cavities."

"Will he recover?" Porthos asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, it will pass as any other illness does, though it may take a while for his equilibrium to recover; the inner ear affects balance, as I'm sure you've realized."

Porthos couldn't hide his relief, and once the doctor was finished and left, Porthos sat on the side of the bed with a smile. "You're gonna be fine," he said, unnecessarily.

Aramis nodded with a slight smile as he closed his eyes. "Told you."

TBC


	7. No Other Option

For the next few days, Aramis was feverish and did nothing but eat, sleep, and cough…rather, he _tried_ to eat with no appetite and _craved_ sleep but woke often, his nose too stuffed to breathe through. Blowing his nose—gently—didn't help much and only made him dizzier, and every time he dozed off, he woke again to cough.

"You two should leave," he croaked at one point. "I don't want you to catch this."

"And let you faint—I mean, 'pass out'—if you have to get up?" said Porthos.

"We've already been exposed," said Athos. "It makes no difference now."

Aramis sighed at that, which made him cough again, and he stuck his face under the blanket.

It wasn't until day four after returning to the garrison that Aramis was finally able to get some real sleep. When two whole hours passed without him waking, Athos and Porthos dared to hope that he was turning the corner.

"It feels like this has gone on forever," Porthos whispered to Athos.

Athos nodded. Aramis' fainting spells had started the day after they'd left for their journey; that had been ten days ago. "Soon, this will be but a distant memory."

Porthos watched Aramis sleep, sighing at the sight of the fever flush on his pale face. "The sooner, the better."

Aramis slept for another whole hour before waking to cough, but dropped off to sleep again a few minutes later. The cycle continued through most of the day, and once mid-afternoon came, they reluctantly woke him.

"Aramis?" Athos whispered, not surprised when their sick friend gave no reaction. "Aramis?"

A sleepy grunt met their ears.

"You've slept most of the day away," said Athos. "Wake now, lest you lie awake all night."

Through Aramis' sleepy brain, the words got through and Aramis opened eyes that felt stuck closed. "Mfph," he mumbled, before breaking into a coughing fit.

Porthos had a cup of water ready, and he helped him drink it once the coughing ended.

Aramis blinked sleepily again.

"How are you feeling?" Athos asked.

"Mfph," Aramis repeated, closing his eyes again and wincing.

Porthos frowned with concern. "Hey, open those eyes back up."

Aramis weakly dragged up a hand and pressed it to the side of his head before obeying.

"Dizzy?" Porthos guessed.

"Mmm," Aramis answered, before closing his eyes again.

Athos removed the wet cloth from Aramis' forehead and found the fever unchanged, so he rewet it and put it back. "Do you feel better at all?" he asked. "You've slept today almost more than the past few days combined."

Another undecipherable mumble was Aramis' answer, and his hand dropped back to the bed as his head lolled.

"Broth?" Athos said to Porthos. "Before he goes out again."

Porthos nodded and crossed to the pot on the fireplace, filling a mug and bringing it back.

Athos slid his arm under Aramis' shoulders and gently pulled him slightly upright, frowning when Aramis remained completely limp without reacting. "Aramis, drink," he said, when Porthos put the cup to his lips.

Their sick friend didn't react.

"Aramis?" Athos said, gently tapping his face.

When there was still no reaction, Porthos looked at him. "He fainted?! Really?"

Both of them looked at Aramis again, waiting for him to complain at their words by saying, 'passed out', but he said nothing.

"It appears so," Athos said, gently laying him back down to the pillow.

Porthos put the mug down, watching worriedly. "You don't think he's been unconscious all day, not asleep, do you?"

Athos had no answer for that.

The doctor was summoned, and had nothing good to say.

"This is the worst ear infection I've ever seen in all of my years," the doctor told him. "The infection inside his inner ear is affecting his equilibrium in a very severe way."

"You still think he'll recover?" Porthos asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but it appears that it will take more time than would be considered normal."

The others didn't like the sound of that.

Captain Treville entered the garrison as the doctor was leaving, and after asking him about Aramis, he went up to the sick musketeer's room, entering to find Athos holding Aramis up while Porthos held a cup to his lips. "He's awake?"

"No," said Porthos. "We're tryin' to force 'im."

Treville walked over to watch, and was relieved when Aramis suddenly squeezed his eyes shut tighter and moved his head slightly, trying to get away from whatever was in his face.

"S'okay, Aramis," said Porthos. "It's your favorite, hot broth."

It took a few more seconds for their groggy friend to understand, and he finally drank the broth; every single drop. Once finished, he started coughing, and Athos continued to hold him upright, to make it easier for him.

Treville winced at the sound.

Aramis suddenly moaned and his head lolled against Athos' chest.

Athos adjusted his grip and held him tighter. It was a sight that Treville didn't see often from the normally stoic Athos.

"He gets real dizzy when he coughs," Porthos told him.

Treville sighed, before sitting on the side of the bed and moving the wet cloth from Aramis' forehead so he could check his fever. "Thank God it isn't too high."

Porthos nodded. "Yeah."

Aramis gave no reaction to the captain's touch, laying limply in Athos' arm. His face was very pale under the fever-flush on his cheeks and his eyes were tightly closed.

Treville looked at Athos, wondering why he was still holding Aramis. He understood a moment later when Aramis' scrunched-up eyes relaxed and Athos carefully laid him back down, having obviously waited for the dizziness to ease.

"I hate this," Porthos suddenly whispered.

Treville glanced at him before looking at Aramis again who lay quietly, eyes still closed. He hadn't been jesting when he'd said to Aramis that the spectacularness of his skills including falling ill. Of everyone in the garrison, sicknesses always hit Aramis the hardest. "He'll be fine," he replied, just like he always said.

"There is _no_ other option," Athos agreed.

Porthos sighed, but nodded. Of course Aramis would recover; they'd make sure of it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was long after nightfall before Aramis finally opened his eyes again. He'd woken more than once after the scene that Treville had witnessed, but was never capable of heeding his friends' request to look at them. When he finally did, he was greeted with Porthos' smiling face.

"It's about time!" he'd exclaimed. "This was the longest day I've ever 'ad, ya know."

Aramis turned one corner of his mouth up in a slight smile before a coughing fit overtook him.

Athos was ready afterwards with a cup of water, and they waited-out the inevitable dizziness before feeding it to him.

Aramis drank it gratefully, before giving a careful sigh and closing his eyes again.

"Oh no you don't," said Porthos, giving Aramis' arm a gentle shake through the blankets. "You've been out for long enough. We have a disagreement and need your opinion."

Aramis opened bleary eyes at that, blinking with a frown. "What is it?" he croaked.

Porthos gestured with his thumb at their other friend. "Athos here thinks you're really as sick as you seem, but _I_ think you're makin' it all up because you want us to _do_ everythin' for ya."

Aramis smiled slightly.

" _And_ I think you're addicted to broth," said Porthos, getting up to fetch some as it warmed over the fire.

Aramis chuckled, but it turned into another coughing fit. When it ended, Porthos was there with the broth and it soothed Aramis' chilled body.

"Thank you," Aramis whispered to them, before falling back to sleep.

Porthos smiled at him fondly and checked his fever, finding it unchanged. He was relieved to have heard his friend speak, but he spared a worried glance with Athos anyway.

Treville soon came to share the watch over Aramis through the long, chilly night. The blazing fire blasted the room with heat, yet Aramis shivered. He didn't wake to cough, even when they eventually started to hear mucus rattling in his throat.

Treville was watching him when the sound really became noticeable, and he waited to see if Aramis would wake on his own. When he didn't, he reluctantly put a hand on his sick musketeer's shoulder. "Aramis," he called.

There was no reaction as he continued to sleep.

"Aramis," Treville repeated, shaking his shoulder again.

Aramis woke startled, taking a quick breath and choking on the mucus.

Treville slid an arm under his shoulders and raised him up higher.

Athos and Porthos, despite their valiant effort to remain awake, were deep in slumber, exhausted from all the sleep they'd lost while caring for Aramis. They slept on, to Treville's surprise, with Porthos loudly snoring.

Aramis coughed hard before clearing his throat with a wince, eyes closed.

"Take it easy," Treville whispered.

Dazed brown eyes opened slightly. "Captain?"

Treville smiled. "That's right. Feeling any better?"

Aramis blinked drowsily. "What?"

Treville had forgotten about Aramis' ringing ear. He leaned his head closer and repeated, "Feeling any better?"

"I'm fine."

Treville fought the urge to roll his eyes as he watched Aramis shiver. "Of course you are." He fed him some water before lying him down again and adjusting the blankets. "Sleep."

Aramis closed his eyes again and did just that.

Treville checked his fever and found it slightly higher. With a sigh, he rewet the cloth and placed it back on his forehead, inwardly praying that the next day would find Aramis' health improved.

TBC


	8. Getting Better

The next morning dawned warmer than the previous week had been, and Athos eventually opened the window to let in fresh air. A bird landed on the windowsill and he and Porthos watched it, knowing that Aramis would revel in the sight had he been awake.

The bird chirped a few times before flying away, and they looked at Aramis again to see his eyes open.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed. "How you feelin'?"

Aramis still looked tired, but his eyes were open all the way, which they hadn't seen in quite a while. "What?" he said, his ear still ringing.

Porthos repeated himself louder.

"Better," Aramis answered, before coughing.

Athos poured a glass of water and they fed it to him once the coughing stopped. Afterwards, Aramis looked at them, clear-eyed.

"You look improved," said Athos, putting the cup on the nightstand as Porthos checked Aramis' fever.

"It's lower!" Porthos said. "After being higher last night, according to the captain."

Aramis yawned. "That's good. How long has it been?"

"Five days since we returned," Athos told him.

Aramis frowned. "It doesn't seem that long."

"It seems _longer_ to _us_ ," said Porthos.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," Aramis told them.

"Don't you _dare_ say that," said Porthos. "You've taken care of _us_ to the point of collapse."

"And _beyond_ collapse," said Athos.

Aramis knew they were right, and that they would—and _have_ —done the same for him. He opened his mouth to answer, but coughed instead.

"Still dizzy?" Porthos asked him once the coughing ended.

"Yes," said Aramis closing his eyes for a moment. "But not quite as bad."

"And the pain?" Athos asked.

"Improving."

Athos and Porthos weren't sure if he was telling the truth, but Aramis was awake, alert, and talking, so they accepted his words.

Aramis managed to stay awake through most of the day, and Serge made Aramis his favorite soup for supper. As the others sat Aramis up so he could eat, Treville came in and silently watched.

"Captain," Aramis said.

Treville smiled. "It's good to see you 'up', Aramis."

Aramis tiredly smiled. "Thank you, though I'm apparently not allowed to feed myself," he said, gesturing to Porthos, who sat on the side of the bed with the bowl of soup.

Porthos frowned. "Do you really wanna try with a dizzy head? You'll miss your mouth and hit yourself in the face with the spoon."

Aramis chuckled, but it made him cough.

Everyone watched, concerned when Aramis closed his eyes with an involuntary groan and hung his head.

"Do you still wish to attempt feeding yourself?" said Athos.

Aramis said nothing, and it took at least fifteen seconds before he could lift his spinning head again.

Porthos fed him slowly, and Aramis went to sleep afterwards. He didn't wake as often overnight, and by dawn, his fever had broken.

The touch of a wet cloth gently patting his face woke Aramis, and he blinked his eyes open to find Captain Treville sitting beside him on the bed.

"Good morning," the captain said, remembering to speak loudly. "I didn't mean to wake you, but your fever has finally broken and you're covered with sweat."

Aramis found his words to be correct, as he felt too warm and his sheets were wet.

"Are you still dizzy?" Treville asked. "I sent the others for clean sheets and a tub…but I'm not sure if you're capable of bathing."

Another day, Aramis might've been insulted by that statement, but considering the fainting spells his condition was causing, he completely understood…not to mention that getting up would wreak havoc on his balance anyway, after lying in bed for so long. He hesitated, before simply saying, "I'm soaked."

Treville nodded. If _he'd_ been the one in Aramis' place, he'd never get into clean sheets while covered with sweat.

Athos and Porthos returned swiftly, and soon the tub was full of water. They carefully pulled Aramis to sit on the side of the bed and left him there for a minute to adjust. When Porthos reached over to lift him, Aramis said, "I can walk."

The others were surprised.

"Seriously?" said Porthos.

"It's only what, five steps?" Aramis said.

"You'll likely regret it," said Athos.

"Possibly," Aramis agreed. "But I want to try."

Athos sighed. "Ready, then?"

Aramis took a slow breath, his head already spinning. "Yes," he said, though he was tempted to change his mind and say 'no'.

Both of his friends pulled him up by his arms and carefully walked him over to the chair that Treville had wisely placed beside the tub.

The short walk was one of the most disorienting things Aramis had ever experienced. The dizziness increased to a sickening level and his vision turned gray. His steps were stumbling and uncoordinated, and he all-but fell into the chair.

His two friends held him up as Aramis gasped for air, head hanging as he fought to remain conscious. He started coughing and stars seemed to erupt in his vision, made even worse when he suddenly sneezed.

"I shoulda carried him!" he heard Porthos say, though it sounded dim and far away.

A hand tapping his face brought Aramis back to his senses, and he realized that he must've passed out.

"Can we agree from here," said Athos. "That _we_ know what is best for you?"

Aramis dazedly blinked. "Mfph," was all he could say. Suddenly, his nose started to run and he sniffed furiously. A handkerchief suddenly appeared in his face and he raised a shaky hand to it, blowing his nose as gently as possible, which made him even dizzier again.

"Get him into the tub before the water gets cold," Treville said from somewhere to his left.

Suddenly, with Aramis trying to figure out how time had passed without him (again), he realized that he was inside the water. He was too groggy to keep his eyes open, and when he opened them again, he was lying in his clean bed and the scent of sweat was gone.

"He's awake," he suddenly heard.

Blinking his eyes, Aramis saw his friends sitting in chairs beside the bed. He was still dizzy, but being clean made him feel better and he gave them a tired smile.

"Just in time for lunch!" Porthos told him.

And so, all Aramis continued to do was lie in bed, eat, and sleep. Two more days passed before the ringing in his ear diminished and the dizziness finally receded enough for him to handle feeding himself, which was a welcome improvement to his friends.

"I'd like to get up," Aramis suddenly said, after watching another bird fly onto his windowsill.

Athos frowned. "I do not think that wise."

"I'm feeling better," Aramis told him. "Not dizzy much at all."

"But still dizzy," said Porthos.

"So?" Aramis said. "How many times have _you_ been dizzy and carried on as normal?"

"Plenty of times," said Porthos. "But it never resulted in me _faintin'_ left and right."

"I can't stay in bed forever!" Aramis exclaimed.

"Is your ear still ringing?" Athos asked.

Aramis hesitated. "Only slightly." He looked towards the window when a warm breeze blew inside. "This might be the last warm day of the year. Please?"

It was near-impossible to resist Aramis when he said 'please', so against their better judgment, Athos and Porthos had him sitting up on the side of his bed a minute later, helping him dress. Finally, he was presentable, and gave Athos his most innocent expression when his friend stood over him with his arms crossed.

"Don't expect us to catch you should you faint," he said.

Aramis looked at Porthos, who shook his head. "Uh uh, that innocent look don't work with me, either!"

Aramis chuckled. "Looks like I'll have to do this on my own, then." With that, he stood right up, to the others' shock. The room spun, as he knew it would, and he faked surprise when his friends grabbed his arms. "Thought you weren't gonna catch me," he joked.

Athos gave him his patented Death Glare™.

"The day we don't catch you is the day we both died _before_ you _,_ " Porthos told him.

A shiver passed through Aramis' body at that, and he felt them grasp him tighter. "I know," he softly replied. "May it never come to that, Lord," he prayed.

Another bird suddenly landed in the window and chirped, breaking their attention away from the melancholy thought.

"If we're going outside—and I _am_ going—let's go," Aramis told them.

His friends carefully helped Aramis get outside, both of them concerned by how unsteady he was. He'd sometimes veer to the left, making it obvious that he couldn't walk without assistance.

When they finally reached the table and sat him down, Aramis let out a breath and put both hands on the table to steady himself when his head took too long to adjust to the change in altitude.

"That was an adventure," they suddenly heard Captain Treville say, as he approached.

"Yes," Aramis had to agree, breaking into a coughing fit.

The captain waited until he'd finished before he spoke again. "I'd say that you're still not fit to leave your bed, but at least you didn't faint along the way." He seemed to reconsider his statement before suddenly throwing a glare at the others. "He _didn't,_ am I right? You wouldn't bring him out here anyway if he _had_...?"

Both Athos and Porthos shook their heads. "No," Porthos said. "He didn't faint."

Treville wasn't sure whether or not to believe him.

"Aramis has not fainted at all today," Athos said.

"That's the truth," said Aramis.

Treville decided to believe them, and nodded. "Good."

A breeze suddenly blew and Aramis shivered, opening his mouth to say 'I thought it was warm out here', but he thought better of it, lest his friends force him back inside. The sun suddenly came out from behind the clouds and enveloped him in warmth, and he closed his eyes and tilted his face towards it. "Ahhhhh," he said, with delight.

Treville chuckled and reached out a hand, grasping Aramis' shoulder and pushing him back to lean against the post behind him. "Relax, enjoy yourself. You two," and he looked at Athos and Porthos. "Keep an eye on him."

"Of course," said Porthos.

Treville nodded and walked off.

"You three want lunch out here?" Serge's voice suddenly called.

"We _always_ want lunch!" Porthos yelled back.

A chuckle was the reply, and minutes later, Serge appeared with a tray. "Good to see ya amongst the living," he said to Aramis.

"It's a relief to finally be out of bed," Aramis answered.

Serge put down the tray before shoving his hand under Aramis' chin and studying his face. "Hmm...too soon I think. You're still dizzy."

Aramis blinked. Was it that obvious? "Not much, especially compared to before."

Serge nodded. "Eat, that'll set ya straight."

"Your food _always_ does that, Serge," said Porthos, already digging in.

Serge smiled and went back into the kitchen.

Aramis drank some of the hot broth that Serge had provided—as usual—before he suddenly realized something. "Did the king ever say anything about the wine being late?"

Athos nodded, swallowing before he spoke. "The usual complaints of 'what if it didn't get here on time', etc, but he was appeased by the captain saying that illness can't be predicted and despite it, you valiantly endured and ultimately succeeded in our mission of getting the wine to Paris before the duke's dinner."

Aramis sighed. "I suppose the captain told the king every detail."

"You mean the fainting? Yes," said Athos. "He had to tell the king how serious it was, so he would hopefully understand and not be angry."

"I'll be known as 'the fainting musketeer' after this," said Aramis, with a sigh.

"No you won't," Porthos said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I heard some Red Guards callin' you the _swooning_ musketeer, but not the 'fainting' one."

Aramis looked at him with horror.

Porthos laughed and clapped Aramis on the shoulder. "I'm jokin'...you know I haven't left the garrison since we've been back. I've been ever at your side!"

Aramis smiled. "Thank you." He looked at Athos. " _Both_ of you. You are excellent nursemaids."

Athos gave him one of his little smiles, and Porthos chuckled again.

TBC


	9. Slow Recovery

Hey everyone! I had surgery to remove my kidney stone on Wednesday, and it was an awful experience! They put a stent the whole length from my kidney to my bladder to drain the backed-up fluid, and I was so weak that I could hardly stand up. They took out the stent yesterday and I feel better now. I can't stress this enough: DRINK WATER! I hate water and never drank it, and this was the consequence. I wouldn't wish this surgery/recovery on my worst enemy! Thank God the stent was only in for 2 days...its presence made life impossible.

Anyway, on to the new chapter!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A week later, Aramis still was not fit for duty. He still had dizzy spells that made life difficult; sometimes striking without warning, and always happening if he bent down or turned around too quickly.

On his second day of staying outside with the others, Aramis unintentionally scared everyone to death when the captain called to them from the balcony outside his office and Aramis looked up. Everything around him started to spin and he fell backwards.

Porthos—standing beside him—managed to catch Aramis before he landed flat on his back.

When a hand suddenly patted the side of Aramis' face, he opened his eyes to find himself lying propped in Porthos' arm.

"Aramis!" said Treville. "I'm so sorry!"

Aramis blinked, feeling confused.

A cup of water suddenly touched his lips, and Aramis drank it, blinking again after Athos pulled it away. His mind cleared and he said, "Oh," when he realized what had happened.

His day had ended there by Treville forcing him to go to bed.

From that day, everyone was careful to ensure that they didn't do anything to startle Aramis or make him move too quickly...which wasn't always easy. They also discovered that Aramis had no balance on his horse, as they found out by helping him mount and then catching him when he immediately fell right off.

Bella, his horse, huffed with apparent surprise and turned her head to nose Aramis' hair as he sat dejectedly on the ground with his two friends beside him.

"Some musketeer I am," Aramis said, in a rare moment of depression. "I can't even sit my horse!" He closed his eyes with a hand on his head as his vision spun.

Someone else in the garrison had apparently witnessed what happened and notified Treville, who came running into the stable. He was glad to see the Aramis was conscious and appeared uninjured, and was about to order him to bed, but Aramis suddenly looked up at him, and the dejected expression on his face made Treville hesitate.

Porthos and Athos, kneeling beside Aramis, looked at their captain, waiting for him to speak.

With a sigh, Treville walked over to them and held out a hand to his ailing soldier, who grasped it and let the captain pull him up. "You know what they say, Aramis."

"What's that?" Aramis asked, blinking his vision into focus.

Treville smiled. "When you fall off your horse, get back on."

Aramis smiled back, and a minute later, he was back in the saddle. His head was spinning and he was holding on for dear life, but with his friends' help, he didn't fall off that time.

All three of them had a grip on him, and they quietly watched as Aramis tried to adjust. It took quite a while before some color finally came back into his face and he reopened his eyes.

"How is it?" Treville asked.

Aramis looked down at him, which proved to be a huge mistake, as his brain reeled and he slumped sideways.

"I did it again!" Treville exclaimed, switching his grip to grab Aramis under the arms and carefully pulling him down.

Aramis' eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. He didn't resist when they pulled him over to a bale of hay and sat him down, and he opened his eyes a minute later.

"I'm sorry, Aramis," said Treville. "Again!"

Aramis smiled slightly. "Not your fault...it's not as if I wouldn't have moved had you not spoken."

"Should we try again later?" Athos asked, making it Aramis' decision even though it was obvious by his question what his opinion was.

Aramis took a deep breath and let it out noisily as his vision started to right itself. "Yes."

They did indeed 'try again', and the trying went on for a few more days before Aramis was able to mount by himself. When he finally managed it, he grinned and exclaimed, "Looks like I can remain a musketeer after all!"

His friends' smiles vanished. "You thought you wouldn't?" said Porthos, holding onto Aramis from below to keep him steady.

Aramis shrugged, gripping the reins tightly. "I had my doubts a few times," he admitted. "I dreamt one night that I was permanently left this way...too dizzy to ever ride a horse again."

"Nothing ever prevails over you, Aramis," said Athos. "The whole _garrison_ knows this."

"Yeah," said Porthos, loosening his grip.

Aramis almost nodded, but caught himself. He was dizzy, but not too badly, and he didn't want to make it worse. "And I have God and you both to thank for that!"

Porthos smiled and reached up to help him down. "Come on."

Aramis frowned. "But I just got up here."

"Are you stable?" Athos asked, still holding onto one of his arms.

"Yes."

"Even if we let go?" Athos pressed.

Aramis hesitated. He was getting dizzier the longer he remained mounted.

"That's our answer," said Porthos, gently tugging on his arm. "Get down."

"No," Aramis stubbornly answered.

"You're not planning to actually _ride_?" Athos asked, sounding surprised.

"Well...maybe not," said Aramis. "But how can I regain my balance if I don't stay here for a while? If my brain has to relearn how to handle height, then getting down so soon will make the whole attempt pointless."

The others understood his reasoning, and let he remain where he was.

"Make sure you say somethin' if you plan to fall off the horse or faint," said Porthos.

"Pass out," said Aramis. "And I don't plan on _either_ , thank you!"

To Aramis' credit, he did manage to stay mounted for a while before finally being obedient and getting down with their help. The dizziness increased with the movement, but he hid it from the others until his boot touched the ground, and he was so disoriented that he slipped sideways out of their grasp and hit a bale of hay before landing on his rear end.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed, mortified at having 'dropped' him.

Aramis closed his eyes as the scenery spun around him, and when he reopened them, his two friends were kneeling beside him looking worried and upset...with Bella's nose between them as she stared at her master on the ground.

"Are you all right?" Athos asked.

Aramis' answer was a chuckle.

"He's laughin'!" said Porthos, incredulously.

"I'm fine," Aramis told them. He reached out a hand to pet Bella's nose, but missed.

"Right," said Porthos, sarcastically. "Up you go." With that, he and Athos pulled Aramis to his feet and sat him on the hay bale.

Aramis repeatedly blinked as his spinning vision calmed down.

"That's enough for today," Athos said.

"I'll be riding by the end of the week," said Aramis.

Porthos frowned. "How can you be so sure? This hasn't exactly been a fast process, Aramis."

"I'm sure," Aramis told them, as he finally managed to see Bella clearly enough to stroke her nose. "Not very far, most likely, but I'll be riding."

True to his word, that Saturday, all three musketeers rode out of the stable.

Athos, being strict, was gripping Bella's reins as Aramis held onto the pommel of his saddle. Porthos rode next to Aramis with one hand gripping his friend's arm.

"This is embarrassing," Aramis complained. He'd been bundled-up against the chilly weather, and between that and being led, he felt like a child.

"The garrison is nearly empty," said Athos.

" _Nearly_ ," Aramis echoed.

"Come on," Porthos said. "Everyone knows you were ill."

"I should've recovered by now," Aramis said, even as a dizzy spell assaulted him as they rode in a wide circle around the courtyard.

Porthos saw Aramis waver and tightened his grip. He opened his mouth to tell Athos to stop the horses, but Aramis prevented him.

"No," he hissed. "Say _nothing_."

Porthos closed his mouth.

They completed the loop around the courtyard and Aramis let go of the pommel with one hand to try to pry the reins away from Athos.

"No," Athos said.

"But—"

"NO."

Aramis sighed and let go.

They left the garrison when it appeared that Aramis was handling the ride, and he was further embarrassed by being led in public.

"We can return to the garrison if you'd prefer," said Athos.

Aramis sighed again. "No."

"Slump over," said Porthos. "And you'll have every woman here showing their concern for you!"

Aramis' face dawned with inspiration, and his whole body slid towards Porthos, who gave an exclamation of shock before realizing that Aramis had taken his advice.

"I meant for you to slump over Bella's neck!" said Porthos, trying to adjust his friend's dead-weight against his side.

Aramis, eyes closed in faked unconsciousness, simply chuckled.

Athos rolled his eyes and they continued their ride.

Aramis eventually sat up straight again, and they left the town, heading towards a lake. When they reached it, Athos grabbed Aramis by the arm before he could move.

"Don't even _think_ about getting down without us."

Aramis submitted, and waited for his two friends to reach up and grab him before he moved. He was standing on the ground a moment later, but his brain thought that he was still on his horse.

"I gotcha, Aramis," he suddenly heard, and he opened eyes that he hadn't realized he'd closed.

Athos and Porthos were both looking at him intently, holding onto him with grips that actually hurt.

"M'okay," Aramis told them, his words slurring unexpectedly.

"We'll be the judge of that," Athos said. He slowly let go of Aramis and grabbed the bedroll off Bella's horse before laying it on the chilled ground for Aramis to sit on.

Once Aramis was safely seated, Porthos grabbed a canteen that he'd brought of hot broth and handed it to him. They watched him drink it for a moment before Athos spoke.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not bad," Aramis answered. "The dizziness is bearable."

"Not when you first got down it wasn't," Porthos commented.

"Which is normal, considering," Aramis answered. "Truly, it could be much worse."

"It _may_ be once we return to the garrison," said Athos.

"Perhaps not," said Aramis, drinking the broth again, grateful when it acted against the chill in the air.

They remained seated until most of his dizziness went away, before carefully helping Aramis mount and heading back. The return journey was harder for him but he fought not to show it.

Once they rode into the garrison, it was obvious that the others had noticed anyway, as Athos directed the horses towards the table. They helped Aramis down and didn't even give him a chance to stand before they lowered him to sit on the bench.

Not letting him properly stand for a moment with his knees locked actually did more harm than good, as the smooth motion from the horse to the bench caused a floating sensation in his head similar to a swaying ship. He gasped and blindly reached for something to hold onto, finding an arm that he gripped tightly, eyes closed. Someone worriedly called his name but another voice hushed him, and he felt more than four hands on his body keeping him steady. When Aramis finally opened his eyes, he saw why.

Captain Treville was the owner of the arm that he'd been clutching, and Aramis realized that he was gripping it with bruising force.

"I'm sorry," Aramis said, letting go.

Treville squeezed his shoulder with his other hand. "It's fine, don't worry." He looked at the others. "It didn't go very smoothly, then?"

"It did for a while, actually," said Porthos. "He handled the first half all right, but the return trip was harder."

"Normal," Aramis said, reaching for the cup of water that Athos suddenly handed to him. He didn't resist when Athos guided it to his lips, since he was still dizzy and didn't want to miss and spill it on himself.

Everyone watched him, and as Aramis pulled the empty cup down, he was suddenly struck with a wave of doubt. His friends were so diligently taking care of him, and Treville was waiting so long for him to recover, losing the services of all three of them in the meantime. "I'd like to lie down," he suddenly said.

The others were instantly concerned. "What's wrong?" Treville asked.

Aramis nearly shook his head, but caught himself in time. "Nothing, I'm just tired."

Porthos, sitting beside Aramis on the bench, pulled his friend's arm around his neck and gently pulled him upright. "Up you go, then."

Treville sighed as he watched the three friends make their way to Aramis' room. He'd seen the sudden shift in Aramis' mood, and he fervently hoped that it wouldn't last.

TBC


	10. Don't Give Up

That night, Aramis didn't sleep well. He was so tired of his ridiculously long recovery, and so desperately wanted things to get back to normal!

"You're gonna be fine," Porthos had told him. "Look how far you've come! Don't give up now."

How 'far' he'd come…he could barely ride his horse. _What good am I like this?_ Aramis thought. All through the night, he woke over and over again, feeling depressed and worthless. When morning came, he didn't see the point in getting out of bed.

Treville came to see him, and sent Athos and Porthos out before sitting in the chair beside his bed. "This isn't like you," he said. "The Aramis I know _never_ gives up under _any_ circumstances."

Aramis gave no reply.

Treville sat forward and tried to catch his gaze. "As you said, it was your first time riding that far; dizziness is normal."

Aramis remained silent.

"What if it were Athos or Porthos in your place?" Treville continued. "Or me? What would you be telling us?"

Aramis blinked.

Treville considered his reaction to be progress. "You know _exactly_ what you'd be saying: 'it's normal, take it slow, keep trying'. What you're suffering _is normal_ , under the circumstances."

Aramis sighed.

"Go at your own pace," Treville told him. "There's no need to rush."

"Of course there's a need to rush!" Aramis exclaimed, unable to keep quiet any longer. "I'm useless and the others are wasting their lives taking care of me!"

"Do you consider it a waste of your life when you take care of _them_?" said Treville. "And _me_? And every other musketeer that falls ill, injured, or wounded?"

Aramis hesitated.

Treville stood. "Get up, Aramis."

Aramis looked at him.

"Get out of bed," Treville said. "You have a horse to ride. _Now._ "

Without a word, Aramis got up. Less than an hour later, he was back on his horse slowly riding out of the garrison with Athos and Porthos. He carefully turned his dizzy head to look back at Treville, and found him smiling.

Aramis smiled back.

Every day after that, all Aramis wanted to do was ride. Some days were easier than others, and one month to the day after his fainting spells began, his dizziness was gone and he was finally back on light duty.

"So how's it feel to be a musketeer again?" Porthos asked as they patrolled the marketplace.

Aramis shot him a withered look.

Porthos realized what he'd just said. "Sorry...you know what I mean."

Aramis nodded. "It feels...cold, actually."

"It _is_ almost winter," Athos said, as if they didn't already know that.

Aramis pulled his cloak closer around himself.

"You all right?" Porthos asked, still protective of his friend after his terrible illness.

Aramis smiled. "Of course, and I'm eager for some action."

"You're on _light_ duty," Athos reminded him.

Aramis shrugged. "Duty is duty, light or not!"

Just then, a woman yelled, "Help! Thief!"

The three musketeers turned in time to see a man running through the crowd, and Aramis quickly followed.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed as he and Athos caught up. "You probably shouldn't be runnin'!"

Aramis ignored him. "How does it feel to be a musketeer again?" he said, as they chased the thief. "It feels _wonderful_!"

THE END


End file.
